No More Learning

Thence he pursues his appointed path. And now they trod those utmost
fields where the renowned in war have their haunt apart. Here Tydeus
meets him; here Parthenopaeus, glorious in arms, and the pallid phantom
of Adrastus; here the Dardanians long wept on earth and fallen in the
war; sighing he discerns all their long array, Glaucus and Medon and
Thersilochus, the three children of Antenor, and Polyphoetes, Ceres'
priest, and Idaeus yet charioted, yet grasping his arms. The souls
throng round him to right and left; nor is one look enough; lingering
delighted, they pace by his side and enquire wherefore he is come. But
the princes of the Grecians and Agamemnon's armies, when they see him
glittering in arms through the gloom, hurry terror-stricken away; some
turn backward, as when of old they fled to the ships; some raise their
voice faintly, and gasp out a broken ineffectual cry.

And here he saw Deiphobus son of Priam, with face cruelly torn, face and
both hands, and ears lopped from his mangled temples, and nostrils
maimed by a shameful wound. Barely he knew the cowering form that hid
its dreadful punishment; then he springs to accost it in familiar
speech:

'Deiphobus mighty in arms, seed of Teucer's royal blood, whose
wantonness of vengeance was so cruel? who was allowed to use thee thus?
Rumour reached me that on that last night, outwearied with endless
slaughter, thou hadst sunk on the heap of mingled carnage. Then mine own
hand reared an empty tomb on the Rhoetean shore, mine own voice thrice
called aloud upon thy ghost. Thy name and armour keep the spot; thee, O
my friend, I could not see nor lay in the native earth I left. '

[509-541]Whereto the son of Priam: 'In nothing, O my friend, wert thou
wanting; thou hast paid the full to Deiphobus and the dead man's shade.
But me my fate and the Laconian woman's murderous guilt thus dragged
down to doom; these are the records of her leaving. For how we spent
that last night in delusive gladness thou knowest, and must needs
remember too well. When the fated horse leapt down on the steep towers
of Troy, bearing armed infantry for the burden of its womb, she, in
feigned procession, led round our Phrygian women with Bacchic cries;
herself she upreared a mighty flame amid them, and called the Grecians
out of the fortress height.
Then was I fast in mine ill-fated bridal
chamber, deep asleep and outworn with my charge, and lay overwhelmed in
slumber sweet and profound and most like to easeful death. Meanwhile
that crown of wives removes all the arms from my dwelling, and slips out
the faithful sword from beneath my head: she calls Menelaus into the
house and flings wide the gateway: be sure she hoped her lover would
magnify the gift, and so she might quench the fame of her ill deeds of
old. Why do I linger? They burst into the chamber, they and the Aeolid,
counsellor of crime, in their company. Gods, recompense the Greeks even
thus, if with righteous lips I call for vengeance! But come, tell in
turn what hap hath brought thee hither yet alive. Comest thou driven on
ocean wanderings, or by promptings from heaven? or what fortune keeps
thee from rest, that thou shouldst draw nigh these sad sunless
dwellings, this disordered land? '

In this change of talk Dawn had already crossed heaven's mid axle on her
rose-charioted way; and haply had they thus drawn out all the allotted
time; but the Sibyl made brief warning speech to her companion: 'Night
falls, Aeneas; we waste the hours in weeping. Here is the place where
the road disparts; by this that runs to the right [542-574]under great
Dis' city is our path to Elysium; but the leftward wreaks vengeance on
the wicked and sends them to unrelenting hell. ' But Deiphobus: 'Be not
angered, mighty priestess; I will depart, I will refill my place and
return into darkness. Go, glory of our people, go, enjoy a fairer fate
than mine. ' Thus much he spoke, and on the word turned away his
footsteps.

Aeneas looks swiftly back, and sees beneath the cliff on the left hand a
wide city, girt with a triple wall and encircled by a racing river of
boiling flame, Tartarean Phlegethon, that echoes over its rolling rocks.
In front is the gate, huge and pillared with solid adamant, that no
warring force of men nor the very habitants of heaven may avail to
overthrow; it stands up a tower of iron, and Tisiphone sitting girt in
bloodstained pall keeps sleepless watch at the entry by night and day.
Hence moans are heard and fierce lashes resound, with the clank of iron
and dragging chains.